A Frozen Lake and a Little Snow
by zeitgeism
Summary: It's Lily! And James! And Christmas time! With a little silly Sirius, nerdy Remus and non-ignored Peter! One shot, just because I felt like writing.


**A Frozen Lake and a Little Snow**

_It's Lily! And James! And Christmas time! With a little bit of silly Sirius, nerdy Remus and non-ignored Peter!_

'...but she'll flip for sure when she finds out!'

'Hardly – it's not like it's anything too bad.'

'Oh really? Come on Prongs, she's your _mum_...'

'...and it is _her_ kitchen.'

'Exactly.'

'But, seriously, it wasn't that bad. No, seriously... oh stop it Pad, don't look at me like that. You know her – she won't mind. And it's not like it's anything that can't be fixed with a few charms. All back to normal, right?'

'Mm, we've done worse before and she hasn't minded...much!'

'And run out, leaving her to find out and just guess what happened?' (Three of the friends shared a look before answering)

'I'd say it's pretty obvious what happened, wouldn't you Wormy?'

'Four friends, three newly of age, one destroyed kitchen complete with a tap-dancing teacups, a sink emitting from unpleasant smells and whatever other surprises Pads left – I think she was asking for it when she let us all crash over Christmas!' (The smaller boy got a clap on the back from one of the black-haired boys and the three of them a withering look from the fourth, sandy haired boy.)

'Well, whatever she does, can't be half as bad as what mine did when ...' (A pause as the others look at him.)

'Why do I get the feeling that you might have been asking for whatever she did to you, Pads?'

'Oh you try living with her. It was one of those God-awful Black family parties. Merlin, they were horrible.'

'So what, you thought you'd extract your revenge by launching into a hearty rendition of the Griffindor quiddich cheer or something?'

'Oh Moony, dear, dear Moony, you know me too well. But no, not quite. I did slightly change the decor of the room though. Thought it was a bit dark, you know. Bit of red and gold to brighten it up. Naturally, everyone responded with an anger which was quite disproportionate to the situation.'

'Because no one would have ever guess that all the Slytherins of the Black family wouldn't appreciate a bit of Griffindor colouring!'

'It probably wasn't my finest hour. But their faces. Beautiful. So, so beautiful. Bellatrix with scarlet and gold hair.' (He paused with his eyes closed and a vague smile on his face.)

'So what'd they do to you?'

'I was bani-shed.' (A badly stifled snort was issued in response.)

''Bani-shed'? What?'

'Uh-huh, bani-shed'

'Pads, have you been at the firewhiskey again?' (The mere mention of the drink caused the sandy-haired one to shudder and the smaller boy to respond with a 'not that bad, you know')

'No, seriously, I was. Mother-dearest said to be 'Sirius, you are no Black. I banish you.' Actually, it was a few years before she said that, but it was the start. And then I was bani-shed. And it is a real word, tell them Remmy.'

(A sigh of reluctance was issued before speaking.) 'It's true – banishéd.'

'And pray tell, in what world is that a word?'

'It's Old English. Or Shakespearean English. Or called something of that nature. They were the ones who were all into their 'thee's and 'thou's and, well, 'banishéd's I guess. Actually, they were also quite into banishing people. You know, as an actual action, not just a ...' (He trailed off then, watching as one of the four broke off, before finishing with a quiet 'word'.)

'Well, what do you know? Prongs's seen his girlfriend!'

'Not dating.'

'Not for lack of trying though, mate! Don't worry though, one day she'll give in. Just give it time. Oh, wait, you have!'

'Come on Prongsy – just leave her! She evidently wants to be alone.'

'Mate, I'm freezing out here. Come on; let's go inside before I get frostbite somewhere highly unpleasant!'

(A shrug was issued before a reply.) 'I just need to ask her something. Head stuff. Just go on, I'll meet you up there.'

(Three boys continued on their walk to the castle, with two launching into a hearty rendition of 'Lily and Jamie, sitting in a tree' while the other groaned at the immaturity of (some) seventeen year olds.)

'Evans, what are we saying to Dumbledore in our report on Christmas?'

'...Evans?'

'EVANS!'

'Uh, oh, Potter. Uh, hi.'

'What's our report on Christmas?'

'Uh, I guess it went well? I mean, the singing suits of armour probably weren't such a good idea, but I think everything else was fine.'

'Yea, and the stars?'

'The stars were nice.'

'Yea. Okay, well, I guess that's it.'

'I guess so.'

(A very long pause.) 'Evans?'

'Potter?'

(And then said with a (badly) attempted air of casualness) 'Why are you here?'

'I didn't go home.' (which was, in turn, said in attempts to make it sound as though it, too, was the norm)

'Any particular reason?'

'Oh, you know, lots to do.'

'Of course, Advanced Potion-Making cannot be read anywhere except for Hogwarts.'

'... and to supervise?' (which was said almost as though it were a question, begging the boy to accept it as a reason)

'Just in case the professors can't manage. Responsible.'

(After sighing,) 'I didn't want to go home.'

'And third go truthful' (with a slight smile)

'It's third time lucky'

'Sorry?'

'Nothing.'

'You were correcting me!'

'Well, you were wrong!'

'I can't help it! I don't understand all those Muggle expressions. I mean, that pot one. What, in Merlin's name, is that all about?'

(A bemused look)

'Oh, you know the one.'

'I can honestly say that I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about.'

'Yea, that one. You know, with the pot speaking to the pan. No, maybe it's not the pan. But you know, some other kitchen-ly appliance.'

'Kettle.'

'What?'

'A kettle. Pot calling the kettle black.'

'Yes! That one! I don't understand. Why's the pot calling the kettle anything? I assume it's not literal because talking pots are really just a bit weird, I mean, even for us and we've got magic and stuff. You know, our mirrors talk. Well, not mine, but some do. But what does it mean? The pot thingy, not the mirrors talking. I know what that means. But why black? And, uh, what's a kettle anyway? Is that one of those tea cooking things?'

(Another sigh)

(A pause and a much quieter voice) 'Sorry'

(Another pause)

'I'm just talking now. I don't really know what to say. Sorry about rambling. I guess you don't really care about pots or kettles. Or mirrors. They don't even relate. Sorry.'

(A pause again)

'Why didn't you want to go home?'

(A shrug) 'Just didn't'

'Okay'

'I guess, I don't know, I just don't really fit in.'

'Why, no one else have such fiery red hair?' (accompanied with a gentle pull on the afore mentioned hair, which earned an unamused look in response)

'Sorry, bad timing.'

'No, it's just me, no idea where those genes came from. But it's not that, it's this.' (with a gesture to her surroundings)

'Magic?'

'Mm'

'But surely your parents don't, they don't thing you're ...'

'A freak?'

(A shrug)

'No, it's my sister. And, I don't know, she's there with her boyfriend' (and in a progressively stronger voice) 'and really, he's the freak. I mean, come on, all he ever talks about is widening the profit margin or the importance of keeping an international outlook or some crap and for God's sake, no one gives a fucking damn. And look at him, I don't understand. It's like, it's like looking at a pathetically undersized sausage in a large bun!'

(A snort of laughter was hurriedly stifled and a serious face was readopted)

'Seriously, she's tiny – all thin and boney, but he's just massive in every way that it is possible to be massive.'

(Another strangled laugh)

'Sorry'

'No, no I shouldn't have. I should just accept him. I mean, she's my sister and he's her boyfriend. I should, I know, but I just don't like him. And I feel so horrible, like I should try harder or something, but it's just so hard.'

(A pause)

'She never accepted you.'

(A longer pause)

'Dance with me?'

'What? No! Why?'

'Because – it's Christmas, we should be happy and dancing is happiful.'

'No! And that's not even a word.'

(The boy stood up) 'The lake's frozen solid, the stars are out and' (a pause as he looked up and smiled) 'and it's snowing.'

(He offered a hand, she paused then took hold of it. He pulled, slightly too forcefully)

'Oof!'

'Sorry 'bout that'

(A smile, a small bow) 'Now, may I have this dance?'

(While giggling shyly) 'Sure!'

(With a mock reproachful sigh) 'Did no one ever teach you to respond properly? You're meant to say something charming like 'of course' or 'how could I resist?' or 'oh James, you are so delightfully attractive, I would delight in nothing more than dancing with you'!'

'That was a horrible sentence. Don't say delightful again.'

(Then whispered in her ear with a smile) 'Just dance'

'You're warm'

'You're freezing.'

'Happens.'

'How long have you been out here?'

'A while'

(Sighing) 'Come'

'Hmm?'

'I'm getting you inside.'

'But...'

'Some other time' (he flicked his wand causing a cloak to appear around her) 'come on.'

(she smiled slightly) 'Thank you Potter'

'You're welcome, Evans'

a/n: and so it ends. I apologize for the fact that it pretty much is completely conversations – I thought I'd take third person point of view literally and speak completely as a third person outsider. In literary terms, I went for total avoidance of omniscience. Which is actually quite hard I discovered. And as a result it became totally dialogue with very little description (and why the little description of action is in brackets, I am yet to work out).

But I applaud you for actually reading it and bearing with my bizarre writing, and I implore you to please leave some comment. Consider it a nice Christmas present for me, to make up for my shockingly horrible one which should be coming some time tomorrow-ish. (I am talking, of course, about my results from my university-entrance exams. Sigh.)

So thank you, Merry Christmas (or Happy Holidays or whatever the American 'politically correct' thing to say is!)


End file.
